


i'll find a way to be ruthless

by eternal_elenea



Category: Revenge (TV)
Genre: Character Study, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2012-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-22 20:37:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/614088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternal_elenea/pseuds/eternal_elenea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ashley Davenport wasn't born with the world in the palm of her hand, but she's learned how to claw her way up by her scarlet nails.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'll find a way to be ruthless

"That's Nolan Ross," someone tells her, the first time, gesturing almost uncaringly towards a blonde boy with arms too long for his torso, "you know, as in NolCorp?"

There are a hundred introductions that afternoon, all of them categorized, and Ashley takes in his popped collar, the phone underneath his fingertips, thinks _new money_ and _outsider_ at the same time.

After, later, she notices his red-rimmed glasses, his red-rimmed smile, his knived smirk as he gazes out into the ocean, reminds herself that interesting does not matter, not here.

 

 

 

She doesn't forget about him, but she doesn't let herself remember him, either. She works her way into the social scene and then the Grayson household and then Victoria's right side. She plans everything, down to her nude heels and her scarlet lips and she's good at what she does, cements her place in these people's minds and doesn't let herself be cast aside for someone younger, richer, (but never better-looking).

 

 

 

"What a fantastic party," says Emily, two months later, and Ashley has long since realized that meaning it doesn't also mean that Emily's not being patronizing, that all of these placid words and hidden agendas are not the same as friendship.

And she might have bought it all at first, might have been willing to ride Emily's coattails up the ladder, be her right hand woman instead of Victoria’s; she might have thought they were friends, as if such a thing really existed here among the sharks, but she’s long since learned better.

And here's the funny thing, it might be easy to forget her, you might not have thought she was watching, but Ashley's been underestimated all her life.

The point is: she _was_.

 

 

 

Nolan’s easy to despise, even for all Ashley could admire him. The easiest reason is the place he’s found at Emily's side where Ashley has already failed, but the more important one is that he's made his place among the elite, skates the line between garish and outright offensive, gives everyone the finger without a second thought. Another is the fact that Nolan has always been effortlessly uncaring and whatever Ashley does, she'll always have to try, won't she?

 

 

 

That's how she comes upon Tyler Barrol: he’s another in her series of stepping stones, another little rich boy with a clear path to the top, his mouth silver-spooned and the Hamptons his inheritance. He's her trinket as much as her tool as much as a person, for a while, and, then, for a moment, he's something more.

She thinks, for a moment, that they're the same, the two of them—negatives of the same photo frame—that this story is meant to be theirs, and not anyone else’s. She thinks, just for a little while, as long as she can, that she's got it all figured out; that she's found her place and her way into this world that has always rejected her. She thinks: she’s found _it_.

And then—

 

 

 

And then it's Nolan, isn't it, always Nolan, who does exactly what she should have, fucks him and uses him and never gets attached, plays a game that she doesn't need to understand to _get_.

It's Nolan that smirks at her over Tyler's shoulder, twists his fingers in Tyler's hair like a noose, proves without a word who he really is and, at the same time, who Tyler’s _not_.

 

 

 

And she misreads the invitation in his eyes that time, every time, until she finally learns how to see it, until there’s a martini glass in his hand and always a smirk on his lips and she follows him back to his place, heels clicking on the garish marble of his foyer.

 

 

 

The two of them fuck just like they argue, rough and sharp-tongued and _fast_ , like they've got everything to lose (and they do). Nolan's nails dig into her hip and she pulls at him until his head snaps back and she bites into the side of his neck.

And playing in this world means that she has everything to gain, everything to gain and nothing to lose, but it's easy to forget how nothing can so easily turn into something, how something becomes everything, right when you might not expect it.

 

 

 

It’s not a _thing_ , what they have, except for how it is.

It’s nothing at all, and then it happens a second time, a third time. And then late nights with Ashley’s feet up on the coffee table and Nolan on his laptop and the pool light over their cheekbones; whispers into each other’s ears, conversations and almost-interrogations and constant sniping.

It’s not something as simple as trust, they’re not children, but.

 

 

 

"What is it you run around doing for Emily all day?" she asks him, one time, tracing patterns like diamonds over his ribs, pretending not to like the crescents of her nails imprinted there.

"What? With Ems?" he says, pushing his hair back, sitting up.

"Nothing." he says and smiles his lying smile at her, buttons his pants, and if Ashley ever needs to know, then she'll know, but she can afford to let him pretend just a little while longer.

She's not jealous, after all; if she were, she'd never look it.

 

 

 

In public, Nolan half-grins at her from across the deck of the boat and she tosses her hair and they play the game in two different ways but they're still both playing it.

And Nolan always been the black pieces and Ashley the white and the only reason it's taken her this long to learn is that they've always been on opposite sides of the board under her feet.

Because they might not the same, not even close, but that doesn't make them any different.

 

 

 

You see, Ashley’s always been particularly good at hijacking other people’s storylines. How else would she have gotten into this business?

 

 

 

So when she gets to the top (and she was always going to), he's not there beside her, but if you thought that was the game then you've never really understood the rules.

He flits about at Emily's side and she's got Daniel Grayson on her arm and they've got the Hamptons at their feet, even if their crowns are invisible, and it's not fate and it's not luck and it can't be anything else, certainly not skill, and.

 

 

 

"Ash," he says, grinning at her, dirty, and they’re not going to miss each other, are they, because they've learned to always be on the same page.


End file.
